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It used to be that calls from family would always come from Israel. Now, they’re coming from the United States as well. Not just from my siblings (who prefer email), but from Jennifer’s relatives too, most of whom live in the Los Angeles area.

Thirty years ago, when I was in fifth grade and living in central London, the word Brixton never, ever graced any of my family members’ lips. Whether they were speaking Hebrew, Spanish, or English, ‘Brixton’ might as well have been Uzbek. So restricted was our sense of this city’s geography that Chelsea seemed like it was the only urban area that existed outside of Tel Aviv.

Four days ago we moved into a beautiful light-filled loft in Brixton. A five minute walk from the tube station, and seven minutes from Eddy Grant‘s reknown Electric Avenue, the neighborhood is every bit worthy of having been immortalized by so many like-minded artists. As though on cue, this is the first signage we saw as we stepped off of our train to check out what would become our new home.

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